Silent Hell
by Kainsvampire
Summary: Follow the story of a socially inept, narcissistic teenage girl as she is suddenly sucked into the world of a creepy survival horror game, using her wits to get her through this freaky alternate universe. Rated M for strong language.
1. I am the greatest person in the world

Silent Hell

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Silent Hill series and am not associated with Konami in any way. I own myself, of course, Rock Strongo, and Melissa._

_You heard me._

_Oh yeah, I don't own Fatal Frame either, so no suing._

Warning: Story contains a lot of unnecessary swearing and is rated M for that reason. If you can't stand it, don't read, but you sure are missing a great story.

* * *

Chapter One: I am the greatest person in the world.

My name is Tiffany and I am fifteen-years-old. I lead a relatively normal life, save for the serious narcissism disorder, social ineptness, "ADHD," laziness, inflated ego, and excessive swearing. I had two parents, two cats, and one bird, all living in a small house in Silent Hill.

Until that day, a seemingly normal day in this little town, I had no problems with monsters and cults. Oh shit, I just pretty much fucked up the suspense. Oh well, I'll fill this story up so full of cliches anyway that you'll be like, "Holy crap, what the hell is wrong with her?" So here we go.

Anyway, I was walking to school with my boyfriend, Brock, no . . . Rock Strongo, who was so friggin tall and handsome all the girls were like, "Oh my God, I want him," and they were all very jealous of me, because I was very pretty as well. My eyes were lavender and changed color according to my moods. I was also very popular and could sing well and play the guitar like a pro even though I had no training whatsoever. In fact, I had a band, and Evanescence once asked me to sing for them, which I totally kicked ass at and they were almost going to replace Amy with me as the lead singer, but I was all like, "No, I have to save the world from the perils of evil." So they were like, "Oh, ok."

So now that you know my background, let's get on with the story.

I was walking to school with my boyfriend Rock Strongo, when all of a sudden a sharp pain shot through my head. I was blinded by a white light which quickly changed into darkness. I could hear my boyfriend's voice as I struggled to keep from losing consciousness. Then, when the horrid pain became unbearable, I fell to the ground, slamming onto the concrete of the sidewalk.

As I drifted into darkness, I heard a distant siren through the pounding vein in my head, like my brain had been replaced by my heart. I felt as if it was calling me, trying to lure me, lure me away from reality and into their sick, twisted world.

I was in Hell . . . Silent Hell.

When I awoke, I was lying on a rusty, grate floor, and it was dark. Whether the sun had set or I was inside a building, I couldn't tell. A buzz remained in my head after the unbearable migraine. I had remembered that.

_But where the shitting fuck hell am I?_

And how had I got there? No matter, I told myself as I picked myself up, at least I missed school. I'm sure Rock would make up a feasible excuse.

"Where the hell is Rock?" My voice echoed in the vast darkness. I couldn't see where the fuck I was. However, I was more worried about the abandonment of the area. "Oh great, did that block-head leave me here and try to get help on his own? That's like the worst thing anyone could do! Everyone knows that's when the serial killer strikes. Jesus Christ, he's such an idiot."

I stopped. _Serial killer?_

If there was one thing I hated more than the dark, it was being left alone in the dark. From years of staying up and watching horror flicks and playing creepy-ass video games like that Fatal Frame madness, I developed a serious paranoia disorder, where the line between reality and fantasy was a mere blur when it came to situations like these.

I completely froze, the hairs on my neck standing on end, back stiff, eyes wide with fear. My heart pounded and I could feel cold sweat beginning to trickle down my forehead and back.

I stood that way until I heard a clatter from behind, then I took no trouble in jolting forward and running as fast as my legs could carry, adrenalin and fear controlling me. What stopped me was a solid structure that I had the pleasure of slamming into. As I was pushed back, landing on my ass, I felt no pain. All that I could think of was getting the hell out of there.

An eerie blue light hovered over a door marked, "Jim Bob's Crazy Mannequins." I promptly twisted the cold knob and swung it open, jumping inside.

* * *

__

_A/N: I think everyone knows this, but I'll state it just in case you're an idiot: Evanescence never asked me to sing for them, in fact, I never met them. Even if I did meet them, I doubt they would ask, because I honestly suck at singing. So there, don't sue me. I have no money anyway._


	2. Mannequins are the worst

A/N: Yes, I know, my chapters are short. Don't complain, just click on the link to the next one. It's honestly not that difficult.

* * *

Chapter two: Mannequins are the worst.

I slammed the door behind me, quickly realizing this room was not lit, either. My instinct was to feel the wall beside the door for the light switch, which was not done in vain. I switched the florescent on, filling the room with a soft buzz and a bluish-white light.

It was a break room, I could immediately tell, as a thermos sat on the counter with an open box of pastries. A round, wooden table sat in the middle of the room, on top of it was a blue lunch pale and a half-eaten sandwich. At the end of the counters was a refrigerator, quite large.

_Come to think of it, I am pretty hungry._

I opened the fridge first, disappointed as there was nothing there other than energy drinks and a rotten piece of liver.

"God, that's sick," I remarked as the pungent smell filled my nostrils. I shut the fridge. "Who the hell eats liver? Wait, no one, that's why it's spoiled. Ha! I'm so clever."

I poured myself a hot cup of coffee from the thermos, still steaming although I had no idea how long it had been sitting there. As usual, I stirred in three spoons of sugar and a crapload of cream. Walking to the table, I lifted the top bread slice from the sandwich.

_Yummy, cheese and salami. Wait a second . . . beansprouts? What the hell is wrong with people? I'm not eating that hippy crap._

I trashed the spouts and tore off the bitten part of the sandwich. Chow time.

Pulling up a seat, I began to muse over my situation.

_Let's see . . . I had a head-splitting migraine which I passed out from, woke up in a dark and creepy place, I'm alone, scared, disoriented, eating a sandwich, what's that spot on the wall . . . it looks kind of like a smiley face. That's creepy. I hate it when stains looks like faces. There's something strange about that._

I slammed my fist on the table, causing the lunch pale to tip on its side.

"Holy shit! I'm in a survival horror game!"

Oh wait, game? What was I thinking? No, this was real life. But I had played enough survival horror games to know what was involved: all the backtracking and puzzles, searching for keys and all the "broken locks" on doors.

"Screw that shit. The first sign of daylight I see, I'm jumping out a window."

* * *

Unfortunately, my luck was not so great. I was stuck in a dark and freaky corridor with no windows and no sign of daylight.

_Holy shit, I'm going to die. I need to find a save point._

I had taken the lunch pale with me, storing inside of it three energy drinks and the rotten liver, in which I wrapped in plastic. Somehow, I thought I would need it, as in all survival horror games, the most obscure of objects to pick up never fails to serve some use.

It took all the bravery I could muster to step forward. My boots echoed in the emptiness, grate flooring beneath them. What the hell was with all the grate? Seriously, these people need to get a sense of style.

As I turned the corner, I saw a row of doors. I didn't have a map, so decided to check all of them. Every single one of them had a broken lock except for the very last, at the end of the hallway. I guess that was a good thing, since I didn't want to do some bullshit backtracking.

The door lead to a room full of mannequin torsos, all of which were missing limbs. The store was called Jim Bob's Crazy Mannequins, but I didn't get what was so crazy about them. They were kind of creepy, but not crazy. I think Jim Bob was the crazy one.

All of a sudden, I heard a noise on the other side of the shelf, packed with mannequin arms. It sounded like a muffled cough.

As I stood there, clutching my lunch pale like an idiot, my heart started to pump faster. A light was on the other side, waving around the room, throwing the light in all sorts of directions. Then it fell on the ground, a noise that echoed in the small room following it.

"Dammit," a low voice suddenly cursed. It sounded like a man, a human.

Whether I should call out or hide was debatable, but before I could decide I dropped the lunch pale. The contents spilled out, an energy drink can rolling under the shelf to the other side.

"What . . .? What was that?" the voice said. I heard footsteps. A head poked out from behind and I gasped. It was a man with messy brown hair and glasses. He had a stubble going. He frowned. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I - I . . . are you Jim Bob?" I asked.

"No," he answered, stepping out. He wore a brown vest and slacks with a white dress shirt underneath. "The name's Vincent." He pushed his glasses up. "And you haven't answered my question."

"Tiffany," I said. "Are you going to kill me?"

He grinned.

"Now why would I do a silly thing like that?" He sounded kind of loony when he said that. _That's it, he's a nut. I'm outta here. _"You haven't even met our merry little inhabitants yet."

"Merry little . . . What the hell is wrong with you? Where the fuck am I?"

Vincent began to lean against the shelf, but found he was standing too far away from it, so fell on his ass, virtually destroying the creepy aura. I could almost hear a record scratch to a halt.

"Ow, goddamn," he muttered, rubbing his backside. He stood up, brushing and adjusting his clothes. "Anyway, do you have the seal of Metatron?"

"Seal of Metatron! What the -- are you on pot or something!"

"Oh wait, that's not you . . . um, wait, who exactly are you anyway?"

I threw my hands up.

"That's it! I don't deal with pot-heads. Screw you guys, I'm going home."

As I turned to head out the door, Vincent stomped his foot, startling me.

"Wait! I'm not finiiiished!" he whined. "You have to listen to my story!"

"Only if you cut the crap and tell me where I am."

So I sat there and listened to his stories for what felt like two hours. Vincent described in detail his life from birth to now, vowing that if I listened, he would tell me how to get out of here. Apparently, he was involved in some kind of hippy cult and hates a crazy bitch named Claudia Wolf.

"Stay away from that woman if you want to live," he warned.

"Well, how the hell do I know who she is?"

"Easy – she walks around barefoot."

"Stupid hippy."

He built a church in town with "the power of money," and was looking for a girl named Heather who was, apparently, supposed to birth a "God." Claudia was also after her, but her intention was much more different from Vincent's.

"God is not ready to be brought to this world. Hate cannot create a paradise."

"Yeah, yeah, and we should replace war with flowers, now how do I get out of here?"

"Use the door."

"God dammit – what door!" I demanded.

"The front door. Are you really that stupid?"

"HEY!" I screamed, pointed the lunchbox at him. He stumbled backwards. "I'm not stupid! It's ADHD, for your information! Don't talk about my intelligence like that!"

I punched the wall.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry. Calm down. Here," he said, handing me a pistol. "Take this. You'll need it, unless you're trying to get the Beam Saber, in which case I recommend the katana."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just take it, consider it a thank-you gift."

"For what?"

His face softened.

"Listening." Suddenly, he pulled me into an embrace. "Nobody ever cared so much about me!" he sobbed.

I hated hippy sympathy scenes like this, so I smacked him upside the head with my new pistol.

* * *

I continued my trek through this strange building, eventually discovering a map. It was an "Alternate Office Building," as the map stated, and had strange red marks all over the place. With it, I was able to determine which doors were locked and find my way to the exit.

Much to my dismay, and utter horror, I found a freaky monster thing blocking my way. It was making annoying breathing noises, so I shot it a few times. It didn't budge.

I didn't know how long I stared at that thing, but eventually I got a move on because it was annoying the living shit out of me. Upon my retreat, I noticed a piece of a fairy tale lying on the ground.

It was some New Age story about a monster and priestess, so I left it alone. Then, suddenly, something dawned on me.

Recognizing the obvious connection between the monster in the book and the annoying little shit blocking my path, I saw that the priestess was killed because she was too sweet. And everyone knows monsters like sweet things. She also seemed like a dumbass, because if she knew how to kill the monster by chanting a fewmystical words then she could've done that long ago and saved herself the trouble of being devoured.

Of course, at that time, I was just annoyed at the monster, and felt like being mean to it.

"Hey! Fool!" I shouted. "Hey! Why don't you answer me monster? What? Scared? Huh monster? Are you scared?"

"Shut up!" it suddenly yelled. "I am not scared!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Then why don't you let me through that door?"

"Oh, you want out? Why didn't you just say something?"

"Uh – what?"

"If you want to go outside, all you have to do is ask, and say please and thank-you. Seriously, nobody has any manners anymore. Did you know I was in this village, and everybody shot arrows at me because they wanted me to stop blocking the gates? Then a priestess started to cuss at me, so I left."

"Oh . . . but, you know, it'll make everyone's life a lot easier if you stop blocking doorways. People need to get through them."

"No. I'm here to remind people about manners."

"Well how the hell is anybody supposed to know they're just supposed to ask? You look pretty goddamn scary, that's why I shot at you, plus you make the most annoying noise – what the hell is that? Are you snoring? I mean, what the hell?"

"You shouldn't judge by appearance. I'm really a great guy, underneath all this."

"Yeah, well, you can save it for someone who cares. Now are you going to let me through or not?"

"What's the magic word?"

"May I go through, _please_?"

"Yes, you certainly may." The annoying monster opened the door for me, where I was promptly greeted with daylight. I stumbled outside, grinning like an idiot and basking myself in the sun, although heavily blocked by fog. "By the way," the monster continued, "my name is Adrian. If you have any trouble, call me and I'll be there."

I nodded, then thanked him because I knew he would make a thing out of it if I didn't.


	3. Pyramid Head is a jackass

Chapter 3: Pyramid Head is a jackass.

After escaping the Alternate Office Building, the world suddenly changed back to normal.

I passed several apartment buildings, no idea where I was going, trying to find my way home. I wasn't even in Silent Hill anymore.

On the way, I tried to break into the myriad of abandoned cars along the side on the road, but all of them were locked, and I didn't have anything heavy enough to smash through the windows.

"Crap," I cursed. _I have to walk all the way back to town in the dark. Where am I anyway? Am I even going in the right direction? Maybe I should call Adrian . . . no, I don't want to listen to that annoying breathing. Dammit Rock! Why the hell did you leave me here!_

The ground began to tremble with a resonating, deep rumble, stopping me in mid-stride. Not long after, a pink Corvette convertible rounded the corner, booming loud pop music with the bass turned all the way up. The high-pitched wails of the boy-band made me clamp my hands to my ears.

As the car neared, I could see the driver -

_What the hell is that!_

The body was human, wearing a stained, white moo moo and gloves. However, on its head was a gigantic red pyramid, resembling a three-dimensional right triangle.

_What type of crazy new fad is _this

It pulled up in front of me, looked me up and down, and exclaimed in a very valley girl-esque manner, "Oh my GAWD! Ugh, it's called the eighties, get with it."

Problem was, it was 2005 . . . or was it?

"Uh . . . right, well, can you tell me how to get to Silent Hill?" I asked. "And it would also help if you could tell me where I am."

"Ugh, like, why would I want to do _that_!"

"Because I'm lost. I'm looking for my mama – I mean house."

_Where the hell did that come from?_

"Like, I don't care. Look, you better shape up soon or else the fashion police will get you."

"The fashion police? What's that?"

"Oh my gawd, you're hopeless. _I_ am, and so is Valtiel. Hint, if you want to stay alive, keep away from us, that is, until you get a clue about fashion."

With that, the Pyramid Head, as I deemed it, drove away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and smoke.

Since I didn't want to die, I decided the next best thing to do was find myself some new threads.


	4. Harry Mason is an idiot

Chapter Four: Harry Mason is an idiot.

Somehow, I was able to wander into the Daisy Villa Apartment building, after going in circles about five times, coming in through the back door.

Inside, I heard some voices coming from one of the doors. I followed the sound until I came upon room 102. It was unlocked, and I didn't bother to knock.

"So anyway, I says to Mabel I says . . ." the male voice trailed off as I stepped inside the room. At the dining room table sat a middle-aged man with brown hair. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a brown leather jacket, holding onto a legal pad. A frown on his brows, he stared at me. "Uh, I'll call you back James. Yeah, bye." He hung up the phone. "Who are you?"

"Tiffany . . . Where am I?"

"Obviously not in the right place," he answered, getting up, cautiously. "Where do you need to go?"

"Silent Hill. My idiot of a boyfriend left me inside an office building, so now I'm going back to smack him upside the head. The trouble is, I have no idea where I am."

"Portland," the man said, his face softening. "I could call you a cab?"

"That'll be great, thanks – er?"

"Harry, Harry Mason," he said, holding out his hand. I took it and we shook. "But do me a favor? When you get there, give this to a woman named Claudia Wolf."

Harry presented a red and white disk, a triangle within two circles engraved on it.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's called the Seal of Metatron. Her father called me and said he has to have it, but he's stuck somewhere in a basement, so I can't help him. He said just to give it to Claudia, but I'm waiting for my daughter, Heather, to return home from the mall, so . . . yeah."

_The Seal of Metatron? Wasn't that what that lunatic Vincent was talking about?_

"What's it for?" I inquired, taking the strange object.

"I'm not too sure, something to do with destroying God. Anyway, I don't want it. I just picked it up from that cult member I killed."

"What?"

"Say, are you hungry? I'll make you something to eat while you're waiting."

I declined his offer and took a seat at the dining room table as he set a pot of water to boil. Resting on top of the table was a hard cover book: _Green Eggs and Ham_.

"Hey, that's cute," I remarked, picking up the Seuss book. "How old is your daughter?"

"She's seventeen, but that book is far too advanced for her. I'm only on page two and already I'm looking up every other word in the dictionary." He sat in front of me with a cup of tea and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. "So, you're from Silent Hill, huh? You know, I visited that place seventeen years ago."

"Why haven't you gone back?"

"I can't. If I do, the cult will surely kill me. They're not happy, you see, because I stole their drugs."

"You-you what?"

"No, I don't use them. I was just kinda pissed because they kidnaped my daughter."

"Did you get her back?"

"Yeah, but I'm still pissed, so I'm keeping the drugs until they say sorry."

Suddenly, there was a loud _crash_ from the rooftop that made both of us jolt from our seats. I heard something which sounded vaguely familiar as a sword being drawn, then rapid steps, not quite human . . .

I drew out my pistol which I was concealing in my vest. Harry's eyes widened as I pulled it out and cocked it (get your head out of the gutter).

"You-you have a gun?"

"Well what the hell else does it look like, Sherlock!"

"A bubble maker, maybe?"

I rolled my eyes.

"A bubble – What the hell is your problem? Why the hell would I be carrying around a bubble maker?"

"Because bubbles are fun?"

"Granted, but you're wrong. Anyway, let's go find out what that is. I'll be damned if I miss the cab because of a stupid monster ambush."

"Great! Alright, here's the plan: you go up and kill it while I sit in the chair over there an man the base."

"Man the base? You know, you sure are a pussy for someone who killed a cult member and got away with it."

"No, trust me, this is the _only_ way. Now go! And be brave! I shall be here if you need to upgrade your power crystals."

"Power –,"

"Just go!"


	5. Claudia the hippy

A/N: I want to thank Gaia Faye for the comment. You r0x0rz my st0cking . . . erz.

* * *

Chapter five: Claudia the hippy.

I followed Harry's order and ascended the metal stairs beside his apartment. When I made it to the rooftop, the full moon greeted me, followed with a bone-chilling breeze.

I carefully tiptoed to the center, my gun pointed and ready to fire. In the shadows and fog my vision did not serve me well. Instead, I relied on my ears.

_Pfffft_ . . .

I turned in the direction of the feeble fart and aimed my gun.

Out stepped a woman from the fog and shadows – a woman wearing a black gown. She had thin, messy white hair and was slender of figure. As she neared, I could see she had bad skin – pallid complexion with a myriad of freckles dotting her face.

With a stern look upon her, she pointed in my direction.

"You!" she exclaimed, her accent British. "Get out of my way!"

"Who are you!" I demanded, but before she could answer, I saw a bare foot poking out from beneath her long skirt. _Claudia . . . Claudia Wolf._ "Hey! You're that nutty cult member, aren't you?"

"Why you insolent –,"

"Don't try anything funny on me!" I interrupted. "I swear I'll shoot. What are you doing up here?"

"None of your business! I could be asking the same thing about you."

"For your _information_, I heard something."

"And you decided to investigate? Don't you know that's when the serial killer strikes? It's common knowledge. Are you daft?"

"NO I AM NOT DAFT!" I fired the gun. Once. Twice. Both times I missed her, as she skillfully dodged my shots. For a hippy, she sure was fast.

Claudia laughed, but her expression changed quickly and she glared at me, her stare cold and hard.

"Insolent human!" she exclaimed. All of sudden, there was a soft _pffft_, and the back of Claudia's skirt lifted as if a strong wind had blown from underneath. Her eyes were squeezed shut with strain as she forced out the "silent but deadly."

The air began to fill with an eye-burning, musty reek. I struggled to breathe, clutching my throat and placing a hand over my mouth and nose. My efforts were futile, as already I became light-headed. Finally, I could hear my own _thud_ as I collapsed on the ground.

_Damn that stinks . . . _

* * *

The only thing that woke me was the murmuring of voices below. On the cold ground, with the shivering wind and full moon, I opened my eyes.

"Yeah, I swear, it's a bubble blower," one of the voices spoke.

"Are you sure? She said it was a gun, and if I'm not mistaken, guns kill people."

"No-no! I swear, it's not a gun. She was just lying to you because she's a jackass."

_Gun . . ._ _Gun! Where's my gun!_

I swiftly got on my feet and raced down the steps. As I was close to reaching the entrance, I tripped over myself and fell flat on my face. Through the sliding glass door, I was able to see Harry sitting in his chair with a creature standing over him. Its whole body, including its head, was wrapped in bandages and in place of his limbs were long, metal blades.

The wind was knocked out of me. I couldn't speak, clutching my stomach with one arm and reaching out with another I managed out a couple strained words, "Harry . . . no!"

Unfortunately, my voice was not loud enough.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Harry asked, curiously examining the pistol.

"Just try it. Here, hold it up to your stomach and pull the trigger," the monster said.

"Why my stomach?"

"Because it tickles! Come on, it's funny, I swear."

Harry was reluctant, glaring at the pistol.

"Why don't you to it?"

"Duh! No fingers."

"Oh . . . ok."

I tried to let out another cry, but it was too late, Harry had aimed the gun at his stomach and fired. As the _bang_ sounded, I was able to jump to my feet and stumbled through the doorway.

"NOOOO!" I cried, pointing. With desperate, pleading eyes, I looked at the monster. "You sick freak! He was supposed to call me a cab!"

From the kitchen, I could hear Claudia's menacing cackle. She emerged, holding a bundle of white bags.

_That must be the drugs Harry was keeping._

"You're too late!" she exclaimed. "Come Eric, we shall leave her to wallow in her own sorrow. Meanwhile, Heather should be along any minute now."

The monster followed Claudia back to the roof.

"Claudia!" I screamed. "If you don't put the drugs down this instant, I'm going to smack you upside the head!"

"Why should I? If it weren't for _him,_ God would've been born and we'd be in paradise. I am a knight, and it is my duty to rid the world of unnecessary life." As she began to ascend the steps, she turned to me once again. "This is the only way God can be born."

She disappeared along with the monster -- apparently named Eric. I shook my head.

_Hippies . . . _

There was a quiet whimper from Harry. I stood over him as he held his hand out, quite an effort as he was losing blood rapidly.

"Tiff-Tiffany, I need you to –," He coughed. "I need you to give my daughter something."

"What is it?"

He struggled in his breathing, breaths becoming short and shallow. He pulled out a thin, blood-stained book from his jacket, handing it to me.

"Just-just give it to her and please . . ." he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer. "Don't let that bitch get away with the drugs. Avenge . . . me . . ."

He fell back, limp, gone, dead.

"Dammit Harry," I cursed under my breath. "I should've asked for the number of the taxi service."


End file.
